Seeing the City from Above
by singsongyylove
Summary: What if Booth had indeed called Brennan during those two weeks- and it happened to be at the most inconvenient moment? Post Wannabe. Angst implies such despair... but it really is a bit hopeful.
1. City Lights

**Title: Seeing the City from Above  
Author: Sara (singsongyylove)  
Rating: K... Clean, but rather angsty. And there's one line that creates an image that even as the author, grosses me out.  
Summary: What if Booth had indeed called Brennan during that two weeks- and it happened to be at the most inconvenient moment? Post Wannabe, again.  
A/N: Okay, so this story is my little season three mix-up-fix-up thing. I wanted to get this out before the season 4 premiere (which, by the by, I don't think I'm going to be home to see- stupid, stupid, stupid- thank you Fox for episodes online). Yeah, so it takes place in the two weeks when Booth is "dead".**

The wind whipped her hair and the sharp ends stung her face like tiny shards of glass. Stinging, biting, freezing, even though it was early summer, it was so cold that Temperance imagined her tears turning to ice the moment that they spilled from her lashes. Just like her hair, the t-shirt that was way too big billowed and flapped around her tiny form. Through the darkness, she could see every light in the city, but she couldn't even see the concrete looming thirty feet below. She could see the Washington monument, the light reflecting off of it like a white beacon sticking out of the non-existent skyline. Remembering one evening when she had sat staring at that white beacon with her partner, another tear rolled down her cheek.

She should have been inside, sleeping, Brennan scolded herself. She should have been doing what she did best: blocking things out. Temperance Brennan, queen compartmentalizer, should have been inside, convincing herself that she would be fine without him.

But the fact was she wasn't. She was standing out on her balcony with the wind stirring everything up around her. Actually, she was standing out on the railing of her balcony, one hand gripping a column tightly. It was beyond unreasonable. It was beyond irrational. It, quite frankly, was idiotic. She was not inside sleeping and she was not at all convinced that she would be fine. In fact, looking objectively at the situation, she was almost certain that she would not be fine without him.

But for some reason, it felt good to be thirty feet of darkness away from the ground, looking out through blurred vision at a sea of national monuments, and feeling as if she could simply blow away if she let go. It was refreshing, feeling powerless. She was always in control, but where had that gotten her? It was her fault that her partner was dead. So maybe, just for this once, she could enjoy the feeling of being out of control.

She had no intention of jumping. None at all. Yes, it was hard to imagine continuing her work without him. Yes, she hated living with the guilt that that bullet was meant for her. But people had left her before and she had gone on and been just fine. And she was a world-famous forensic anthropologist. What about all those families she had given a loved one back to and all the ones whom she would identify in the future, just the way she had with her own mother? Brennan had always tried to convince Booth that she wasn't weak. Just because he was gone didn't mean she should go back on her word. She would not kill herself. She would not be a coward.

But maybe if she happened to slip and fall? The thought didn't bother her. Was that wrong that her instinct for self-preservation seemed to have disappeared? Temperance Brennan was sure that she had never been so illogical in her entire life, but she didn't care. Objective, compartmentalizing, calculating Dr. Brennan would be hard at work tomorrow in the lab. But right now, powerless Temperance didn't care either way if she lived or died because it was much simpler not to mind.

Inside the apartment which emanated a soft, yellow light and welcoming warmth, the telephone rang. _Most likely Angela calling to see if I'm okay_, she thought to herself, _if only she knew._ She waited as it rang once, twice, five times, eight times, and then her own voice rang out. It beeped and there was a suspended moment when she waited for Angela's smooth words to come, but instead she heard a most unusual thing.

"Bones, I'm not supposed to be calling you, but I just… had to," Temperance stared at the blinking machine with horror. Impossible. Yes, that was it; she was definitely and irrevocably not going to be okay. But even in that moment when Brennan knew that Booth was not actually calling her, that he was, in fact, dead, and that her mind was playing tricks on her, she wanted to indulge. Just as she knew it was idiotic to be standing precariously out on her balcony, but did it anyways, she was not in the mood for rational. She wanted to answer the phone, even if the conversation was a hallucination or a delusion, because maybe for one more moment, Booth could be alive. Temperance moved to leap off of the railing and bound in through the sliding door, but knew the moment that her hand left the column that she would not make it there. One foot slipped immediately and uncontrollably, and within a split second, she found her stomach leaping into her chest. And the only thought that Brennan could find during the second that she fell was that this was not a delusion, hallucination or dream. _This is really happening. I'm about to die._ And the last thing she felt was her shoulder blades cracking firmly against the ground.

Temperance's eyes pulled open with strenuous difficulty. Her vision felt glazed, but the first thing she saw was a pair of brown eyes that could only belong to one person.

"Am I dead?" she asked her partner.

"No, Bones. You're alive. We're both alive."

Temperance Brennan was not sure she believed him when he said that they were alive. But for that moment, she chose to accept it as the truth, because it was simpler not to mind. She chose to assume that both she and Seeley Booth were living creatures, because in that moment, she wanted to indulge this strange delusion, this powerless freedom from rationality. She wanted to believe that those were really her partner's deep, brown eyes.

**This story is kind of a weird thing. The end is like, perfectly set up for me to continue, but I like for all of you to just believe what you want to believe. But one more chapter might be nice. I don't know, you tell me.  
****Every moment that you stare at the review button without clicking it is almost as painful as every moment that Booth and Brennan lean closer and closer without kissing. Please, save me the agony. Just kiss. Oh... or... no, just review.**


	2. Blinding White

**I don't think this chapter is as good as the first one, but here's what I think happened.  
(P.S.- 3 DAYS!!)**

"Am I dead?" Brennan knew that she must have been waning in and out of consciousness for a long time, because even though it was the first time she had awakened, her partner answered her question unenthusiastically.

"No, Bones," he sighed, "You're not dead."

Her head throbbed a little as she attempted to lift it. The white of the walls, the sheets, and the coats blurring past seemed to mirror her own pallid skin. She saw bare legs, a nauseatingly green gown, and hands shaking without her control. One hand was covered with a bandage. There was only one word to describe her state of being: confused. If she was dead, she wouldn't have been in a hospital, right? But if she were to believe Booth when he said she was alive, shouldn't she be bandaged so much that she'd be paralyzed?

"Put your head back down or else you'll get dizzy and pass out again," he commanded. She glanced at him with a mouth in the shape of a perfect o and eyebrows raised like little umbrellas. Obeying his order, she gave her neck a break and leaned back against the thin pillow.

"How can I be alive?" she wondered aloud. Clearly, this was farther than the conversation had gone before, because those brown eyes looked up from their newspaper with surprise. Considering her for a moment, they became beady with investigation.

"I have a better question, Bones," he said. He sounded a bit ticked off, the voice pausing a bit after the word _better_. Her eyes looked at the ceiling with apprehension, not wanting to turn for fear of losing consciousness. "Do you want to be alive?"

That was certainly not a question she considered as she stood in the dark air of nighttime, thirty feet above the sidewalk, aware that a particularly strong gust of wind could send her tumbling to her death. She remembered not minding the thought of death, but she also remembered that she didn't necessarily want to die. She remembered wanting to see Booth again, but knowing that he was dead. She should be alive, for Angela and for the lab and for Russ and her father. Her eyes rolled to look at him. He was supposed to be dead and she was supposed to be alive. Or dead. She didn't know.

"I don't know. I think so."

"Well then why were you standing out on the railing of your balcony?" he asked condescendingly. Brennan felt like she didn't have a full picture. What was going on? Was she dead or alive?

"You're supposed to be dead," she stated, half avoiding the question and half trying to remedy her brain's disorder. The confusion was making her head throb even harder. With every pulse of blood, she imagined her brain becoming too large for her skull. She could sense the shaking in her hands becoming worse and the ringing in her ears becoming louder. Where were the doctors in this house of blinding white light? Couldn't they make her think straight?

"Yeah, except now my cover's blown because you just had to go and get yourself admitted to a hospital."

"Cover? You were dead. You died. I was there."

"Damn. The concussion must have messed up your memory. I'll have to tell the doctor," Booth said and began to stand.

"No," she said, whipping her head up quickly to look at him. She had a moment where the room swam and spun, spots blurring her vision, but as the air cleared, she continued her protest, "They told me you were dead. That's why I was on my balcony. But then you called. That's why I fell."

"No one ever told you that I was undercover?"

"No," she said firmly. Where were those damn doctors? Her partner's face became a blur and her mouth went dry.

"I'm not dead, Bones. And neither are you."

A white coat walked into the room. Inside it was a woman with blonde hair and a mouth that pouted as if she had just eaten something very sour. Her eyes widened to find Temperance Brennan awake. And talking to Seeley Booth, at that. As she began to write in her patient's chart, she addressed the flushed and wide-eyed woman, "Good to see that you're up, Dr. Brennan. Don't worry; your partner here has made it his goal of the day to pester me about taking care of you. I'm Dr. O'Mara."

"Hold your cattle."

"Horses," Booth felt compelled to correct her faux pas, "hold your horses."

"So you," she pointed to her partner, "never died," he simply nodded in response, "and I fell thirty feet, but the worst injury I got was a concussion?" Brennan was trying as hard as she could to understand. The past week, she had thought that her partner was dead, but now he was staring right at her. The room was spinning and the lights felt as hot as if she were out on a roof in the afternoon sun. Everything was wrong.

"That's ridiculous," Dr. O'Mara butted in, "you'd never survive a thirty-foot fall."

"Bones, you only fell four feet."

"What?" the room stood completely still as she stared at him, every one of her senses heightened.

"Your neighbor heard you scream," Brennan's eyebrows furrowed, not remembering ever screaming, "They called nine-one-one and the EMTs found you unconscious out on your balcony. Concussion and a broken finger."

Then she remembered it. Hearing Booth's humming voice and being drawn towards it. Her eyes clamping shut, imagining herself falling past the apartments beneath her, sleeping figures oblivious to her plight. She remembered her throat emitting a scream that pierced even her own ears. And she remembered how her fall happened so immediately that it didn't even occur to her that she would be falling the other way. That she wasn't going to die. She was so preoccupied hoping that Booth was right. That she'd see him again after life ended. She fell four feet. The fear that radiated through her knocked her out before her head even hit the ground.

"I thought I was about to die."

"Falling four feet off the railing of your balcony and passing out because you thought you were dying. Admit it, Bones; you are a bit overdramatic sometimes," he teased.

Relief and understanding flooded over her as a tiny smile pulled at the corners of her lips. Her head no longer throbbed, the room no longer spun, and the lights no longer seemed too bright. Her eyes met his, Temperance Brennan's with a look of pleased wonder and Seeley Booth's with a look of confusion. "We're alive," she said, believing it now.

He too smiled now and slipped his fingers into her unbandaged palm, "Yeah, Bones, we're alive."

**Fin.  
With every review, the sun smiles down upon you. Please, I hate the rain.**


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